


i'm just such a happy mess

by TrenchWarfare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchWarfare/pseuds/TrenchWarfare
Summary: The thing is, Victor’s never been very good at denying himself luxuries. And now that Victor has permission to kiss Yuri, he can’t seem to stop. And well, to be honest Yuri doesn’t really want him to.
But it is a little inconvenient sometimes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just 3000 words of Yuri being an embarrassing gay mess. I'm not even sorry about it.

There’s a part of Yuri, the part of him that used to collect posters of Victor to hang on the wall of his bedroom, the part who still hasn’t deleted his (locked) twitter that he used to use to keep up with Victor news, that’s screaming continuously the whole time Victor’s lips are pressed against his own. Sure, it only lasts about two seconds, but Yuri swears the entire universe slows down just so he can memorize every last detail of Victor’s mouth.

He’s blessed with minutes, instead of seconds, to enjoy Victor’s warmth and the hard ice against his back is a reality check that he never wanted to experience.

Yuri’s still sweating from skating, but his costume is thin and the cold seeps through it like it seeps through the walls of his bedroom in the winter, fast and unrelenting. But Yuri doesn’t care, because Victor is on top of him and he’s looking at Yuri like he’s the answer to every question Victor’s ever asked.

Eventually though, the moment ends, they have to get up, talk to the press, win a medal. And, like every moment with Victor, it’s incredible. But. All of it pales in comparison to the moment on the ice in Victor’s arms and Yuri wades through it like a dream, each second glancing off him and leaving only the barest impression that he’ll have trouble remembering later.

When they’re finally alone again in their hotel room, the stillness is deafening. Yuri can almost feel all of his giddiness and excitement solidifying into nerves and doubt the longer he looks at Victor.

So he looks away, focuses instead on rummaging through his bag to find more comfortable clothes. As good as his costume looks, it scratches at his shoulder blades under his jacket and after such a long day he’d really much rather hang around in a t-shirt and order room service so he doesn’t have to leave the bed.

Yuri pulls on a soft shirt, so worn that the design has almost completely faded, and turns around, coming face to face with Victor only inches away. 

Yuri would say that the other’s closeness is startling, but Yuri is always aware of Victor in the same way he’s aware of his own fingertips, absently, until they come in contact with something, making themselves known with an electricity that thrums through every inch of him, like  _ oh, there you are.  _

Victor looks at Yuri, a fond considering gaze, not unlike the ones he gives Yuri when he’s trying to figure out how to get Yuri out of a funk, but completely different at the same time. Yuri can feel his eyes as acutely as he would his hands and, like always, the stare makes him want to preen. 

Victor smiles without any of the normal edges, and half shrugs one shoulder in question. Yuri knows what it is, even when it’s left unsaid. He knows it like he knows the answer, they’re both etched into his ribs, pressed right up against his heart. 

Yuri surges up onto his toes, his hand curling around the back of Victor’s neck and kisses him like he’s been dying to since he was 16 years old and first realized why exactly he was so enamoured with Victor in the first place, why he was obsessed with plastering Victor’s face on his bedroom walls. 

But he’s not kissing Victor the figure skater. Victor hasn’t been that for Yuri in months. He’s kissing  _ Victor _ , his coach, his friend, his anchor. And that’s so much better than Victor the idol. 

Just for now, Yuri turns off his brain and lets himself enjoy this, sinking into Victor’s embrace and just  _ feeling. _

-

The thing is, Victor’s never been very good at denying himself luxuries. And now that Victor has permission to kiss Yuri, he can’t seem to stop. And well, to be honest Yuri doesn’t really want him to.

But it is a little inconvenient sometimes. 

They’re in the hotel lobby, waiting for someone to come to the front desk so they can check out. Victor is draped over Yuri’s back, face tucked into his neck. He’s breathing so deep that Yuri’s not entirely sure that Victor’s even awake.

It’s early and there’s a stillness in the air that makes everything seem out of place. Yuri almost feels like he’s trespassing on something, but he has to shake it off. It’s the lobby, they’re allowed to be there. Still, it’s 5 in the morning and every movement feels like an intrusion on the quiet. 

Yuri twines his fingers in Victor’s loosely, seeking nothing more than the warmth of his hand and the smooth of his skin. They stand there, tangled in each other, just drifting like dust in sunlight. 

When a concierge finally comes to the front desk, it’s almost unwelcome. Yuri would probably feel more upset if they didn’t have a plane to catch, but as it is, he shakes Victor off and hands over their keycards. But it doesn’t take more than five seconds for Victor to reassert himself into Yuri’s space. 

Victor rests a hand on Yuri’s waist and leans in, uncaring of the concierge, who, truthfully, seems like she wouldn’t even care if they stipped naked in front of her. He presses a kiss to the corner of Yuri’s mouth. 

It’s not very scandalous, especially compared to yesterday when there were at least twenty cameras on them, but Yuri’s heart leaps at the contact and he can feel his face heat up. 

Victor’s hand doesn’t leave his waist. Yuri doesn’t think his flush is from embarrassment. 

-

Yuri hates waking up. He doesn’t mind mornings themselves, but the physical act of getting up? He’d much rather do any of the drills Victor likes to assign when he’s feeling particularly cruel. 

It’s just that waking up almost always feels like an uphill battle, like he’s at the bottom of a lake, struggling to the surface and already out of air. It’s so much  _ work. _ And, before Victor at least, his dreams were always more comforting than real life. 

But every once in awhile, he has one of those days where waking up is amazing. Where he slowly becomes aware of the softness of his blankets, the warmth of Makkachin against his side, the static quiet of the hot spring before any guests wake up. And lately? The weight of Victor on his chest, his perpetually cold toes squirming under Yuri’s calves, his deep breaths heavy in the morning air. 

Yeah. When he wakes up with Victor, it’s pretty spectacular. 

Slowly, as Yuri becomes aware of all those things, he realizes that something’s different. But he’s comfortable and it’s morning, so he drifts, aware but unmindful of the warm weight on his face. Content to just take his time to really wake. 

But then the weight becomes more insistent, pulling a noise from Yuri’s throat, unbidden. Yuri claws from sleep to see Victor looking down on him with a smug smile. 

“Were you kissing me?” Yuri asks, voice scratchy from sleep. He wonders what time it is, but he’s too comfortable to reach for his phone to check. 

Victor hums in response, his hand tracing the curve of Yuri’s cheek, and leans down, capturing Yuri’s lips with his own. He drops his body down so they’re pressed together from head to foot, Yuri taking most of Victor’s weight, letting it press him into the mattress. 

Yuri kisses back as good as he gets, though a little uncoordinated, his brain still trying to boot up. He runs his fingers through Victor’s hair and clutches at the back of his head, loving the way the smooth strands feel against his palm. 

They lay like that for a few minutes, entwined with each other, mouths lazy, but definitely, definitely present. Eventually though, their movements slow, and Yuri drifts off again with Victor’s face smushed against his own. 

-

Nothing in the world compares to the feeling of skating on freshly smoothed ice. For only those first few minutes he can glide across the rink with almost no resistance against his feet. He can track his progress in the lines forged by his blades, until there are too many and the path becomes muddled. The unmarred ice always seems to shine better and it lifts Yuri’s heart in a way that nothing else could.

Well, he casts a sidelong glance at Victor, he  _ thought _ nothing else could. 

Victor likes it too, Yuri can tell because Victor never passes up the chance to skate on a rink after a zamboni has just passed through. He’ll lace up his skates, ignore coaching for a few minutes, and make lazy lines in the ice with Yuri. 

Yuri jumps. Nothing fancy, just a double, just because he can. He lands it cleanly and drifts over to Victor so they’re in step. 

Victor reaches out and takes Yuri’s hand, twisting their fingers together. They’re both wearing gloves, so it’s not skin contact, but the weight and the pressure of it is nice. They skate like that for a while, sometimes Victor leading, sometimes Yuri, but both in sync. 

They glide to a spinning stop near the wall of the rink, their skates rasping against the ice. Yuri only lets go of Victor so he can brace a hand on the wall while he uses the other to wipe the tiny chips of ice off his blades. When he straightens up, Victor inches closer, his controlled grace the only thing keeping him from colliding with Yuri from the momentum. With two fingers, he tilts Yuri’s face up and goes in for a kiss. 

Yuri melts into the familiar embrace. They don’t usually do this during practice, Victor too wary of distracting him too much, they usually save it for afterwards, a reward for working so hard. 

The kiss is long, but chaste, and in the end, Yuri is the one who breaks it. Victor’s mouth twists in displeasure at the disruption. Yuri pat’s Victor’s cheek and glides away, ready to properly warm up.

-

Yuri absolutely hates giving interviews. They always make him anxious and that always results in one of two things. Either he clams up and every question is so difficult for him to answer might as well be pushing a boulder up a cliff while wearing brand new ice skates. 

Or, and this has been the case more often recently, he gets too loud and his brain to mouth filter is compromised as he over-confidently says the first thing that comes to mind. He’s always more embarrassed by this than the former. 

That’s not even the only reason he hates interviews. He tends not to like the interviewers as well. They’re always either too friendly with him, invading his space and acting like they’re good friends, or they don’t care, their voice disinterested as they ask the same tired old questions he’s already answered a dozen times by now. 

“So you say your theme this year is ‘love.’ What would you say is your inspiration for that? Is there a lucky lady waiting for you back home?” This reporter somehow manages to be a mix of the two. He couldn’t even be bothered to watch his press conference? Or the Cup of China where he, oh I don’t know, kissed his coach on television? Yuri wants to hit his head against something to make himself forget this whole experience. 

The question though, as always, makes him turn his head and seek out Victor in the crowded room. But his coach is nowhere to be found and Yuri frowns at the realization. 

The interviewer makes a noise and Yuri starts when he realizes he forgot to answer. “No,” he says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “there’s no one back home.” It’s not entirely a lie, except that sometimes, when he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed in a hotel room in whatever city they’re in now with Victor curled into his side, he can’t help but think  _ Victor _ is his home. 

“So where  _ does _ your inspiration come from then?” The interviewer leans forward, asserting himself into Yuri’s space. Yuri stumbles back half a step just to give himself some room to breathe.

“Well-”

Yuri’s interrupted by Victor swooping into the interview like he owns the place, unaware, or uncaring, of the cameras and the reporter. 

“Yuri!” He says, delighted smile  overtaking his face. And, oh no, Yuri knows that expression. He only looks like that when he’s going to do something that will undoubtedly make Yuri angry with him. 

Sure enough, Victor, too quick for Yuri to do anything but squeak in surprise, plants a kiss right on Yuri’s mouth. He lingers long enough that it’s abundantly clear what he’s doing and Yuri knows that the reporter is probably gaping at them. Victor pulls away and his smile softens. 

“We need to get going if you’re going to be well rested for tomorrow,” Victor says, completely ignoring the fact that Yuri is in the middle of an interview. 

Yuri wants to berate him for interrupting like that, but it’s hard to concentrate on his anger with Victor so close that Yuri can smell traces of the ice rink clinging to his jacket. Victor’s hand is a warm, insistent weight on his elbow, so he makes his apologies and lets Victor lead him out. 

He’ll yell at him later. Probably.

-

It’s posted on Victor’s instagram account at around three in the morning. Yuri probably wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t in the habit of checking Victor’s instagram at least once a week from back before he knew him. 

Yuri doesn’t remember Victor taking the picture, which means Yuri was almost certainly sleeping when it happened. 

They’re in bed, the two of them, one of the bedside lamps casting a soft glow over their features. Yuri is sprawled out, one arm tucked underneath Victor, the other splayed somewhere offscreen, his mouth open a little, eyes closed. Yeah, he was definitely sleeping. 

Victor’s hand is pushed against Yuri’s face, squishing his cheek a little and Yuri’s not a huge fan of the way it distorts him. He’s facing Yuri, his lips pressed into a spot just under Yuri’s eye. It’s all terribly domestic and Yuri doesn’t realize he’s smiling at it until his face starts to ache. 

It’s captioned only with a little sun emoji and the words “моя радость.”

-

It’s not often that Victor gets so caught up in his fans that he forgets about Yuri, in fact it’s usually only in Russia that it happens, but every single time it makes Yuri’s chest burn in jealousy. 

Yuri’s wary of it, the jealousy, too cautious to let it really consume him, but careful of it all the same. He doesn’t think even Victor knows the extent of it, and Yuri wants to keep it that way, to shield him from it and not let it interfere with Victor’s happiness. 

Still, Yuri can’t help feeling smug whenever someone chastises him for stealing Victor from the world. He loves knowing that no one will ever have Victor the way that Yuri does. And when he remembers that, it’s easier to brush it off whenever Victor isn’t entirely enthralled with him. 

But Victor’s been greeting his fans for so long now, it’s hard not to pout. Yuri needs to start warming up soon, but they’re stuck outside because this fan absolutely has to show Victor this and that fan wants to know if Victor will record a video for a friend and, oh, another fan wants him to autograph this and this and this, pretty please.

Yuri’s not bitter at all. 

It’s not even about the fans themselves, Yuri wouldn’t be able to handle their attention, he gets too overwhelmed by the fans he does have, but Victor’s attention is too precious to Yuri and a small, vicious part of him thinks that these fans don’t deserve it, they haven’t earned it like he has. 

It doesn’t help that Yuri also just doesn’t really know what to do in situations like this, so he always just hangs back, shifting awkwardly on his feet, scrolling listlessly through his phone, bitterness welling up in the back of his throat like a cough. 

Which is what he’s doing when he sees that instagram post again and a thought occurs to him. There’s a surefire way for Yuri to recapture Victor’s attention. It’s not something Yuri would normally do, but he’s feeling a little adventurous today. And after all, if Victor can do it, then why can’t Yuri?

Yuri pockets his phone and crowds into Victor’s space, completely disregarding the small crowd of fans. “Victor,” Yuri says, then grabs Victor by his tie and pulls him into a kiss. Distantly, he hears the sound of digital camera shutters going off, but he doesn’t really care because Victor’s shock doesn’t last for more than half a second before he’s kissing back. 

When Yuri pulls away, Victor has this stunned look on his face that never fails to make Yuri smile and it makes him want to pull him into another kiss, but they really do have to get going. 

“We’re going to be late,” Yuri says, running a hand down Victor’s arm and lacing their fingers together. 

Victor smiles in answer and turns to his fans, “Sorry, everyone,” he says and waves with his free hand, “we must get going, but it was an absolute pleasure meeting all of you.”

Yuri almost feels sorry for them, knowing too well what it was like to have Victor on that kind of a pedestal, but he can’t muster that feeling up over his own satisfaction that no one else in the world gets to have this. 

Victor has already launched into an explanation of what he wants Yuri to do during warm ups as they’re walking. Yuri’s only half paying attention to the words, his mind caught up in how the light glints off of Victor’s hair  _ just so _ . It reminds him of the way freshly fallen snow glimmers in the sun. 

Yeah, contentment thrums through his whole body as he tightens his grip on Victor’s hands, this is all his. 

**Author's Note:**

> моя радость, if the site I used is correct, is a Russian term of endearment that means my joy. 
> 
> come yell about these gays with me on twitter @TrenchWarfaire


End file.
